


Two

by ramuda



Category: Kamen Rider Build
Genre: (quite literally), Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, happy kiss day???, ryuga got a booboo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 10:05:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14734898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramuda/pseuds/ramuda
Summary: The silhouette of Kazumi’s fingers dragging down his arm still light a fire upon Ryuga’s skin; their touch long gone but somehow not foreign.





	Two

**Author's Note:**

> hhhhhh theyre gay. still. i think a lot about how theyre both bitches but at the end of the day they’re soft for eachother. love those guys
> 
> rated t because of the death/injury mentions, also they make out.

Kazumi is pissed off, to say the least.

 

He’s not mad at Ryuga or anything, and he understands that fighting is something integral in war. But his chest still clenches, his breath still sputters, when he gets a call from Sento saying that Ryuga had to be rushed to the hospital.

 

He’s pissed off, because as if God didn’t hate him enough, as if ripping him apart from everything he knew, forced to watch behind a screen as the only things he loved were shredded, their existence now utterly destroyed, wasn’t enough to atone, that he feels that now the routine he’s fallen into deserves to be ruined again, the only way to receive a substantial repentance for his past wrongdoings Ryuga’s life fading through his fingers like the Crows did. Kazumi is constantly living in limbo, his feigned nonchalant-ness the only barrier between him and the realization that his life has been annihilated, broken remnants of memories and past dreams the only vestige salvageable from the torn warfield that is his past.

 

Kazumi doesn’t ignore the grief in Sento’s voice, dropping the line as soon as he hears confirmation that Kazumi heard him. He shakes, the phone dangling from his fingers as he scans the room. Mii-tan is sprawled on the bed, her gold bangle swaying on her wrist in the draft from the fan. He looks at her for a moment, tender and calm, before deciding that she would be okay on her own for a while.

 

He scrawls out a note for when she wakes, his fast handwriting barely legible on the torn sheet of paper from Sento’s notebook, and leaves it on the desk, speed walking his way up the stairs and out of the basement. The bell chimes on his way out, prompting him to turn on his heel.

 

From there he takes in the view, the drapery over the entrance untouched as if cleansed from the destruction of war, the soft glow of the Nascita sign, the way the counter looks through the window, slightly distorted but still familiar, committing every miniscule detail to memory as if he were the one dying. With a final glance he rotates, kicking up a loose rock from the concrete, a laughably accurate metaphor for where he is in life.

  
  
  


Kazumi arrives at the hospital roughly forty minutes later, his feet aching and red crescents blooming on his palms where his nails were dug into them. A lot of time, alone, the only sound the buzzing of cars and the thoughts racing through his head, resulted in a conclusion. When he saw Ryuga’s stupid face, presumably covered in bandages and scattered scratches, he was gonna….   

 

The sentiment was more valid in his head. Despite his general coldness, and his ability to easily speak the harsh truth, seeing Ryuga laying still and pliant on the hospital bed conflicted with his desire to be stern. 

 

He looks different there. Different than the Ryuga that Kazumi knows, fierce, strong, snappy, his bark stronger than his bite. He looks weak, helpless, his lidded glance stuck in staring at the white wall. He’s okay though, which is why he looks so different from the Crows near death, the jagged lines flashing across the screen next to his bed a reminder of his survival. Kazumi knows that he won’t die yet, his existence sustainable at least for now.

 

“Hey,” Ryuga mumbles, his eyes leaving the trance to stare daggers into Kazumi’s soul. “Are you just gonna stand there and stare, or are you gonna come blabber some bullshit about how I should get better soon?”

 

Kazumi rolls his eyes and sighs. There’s the Ryuga he knows. Even in such a physically vulnerable position he keeps his emotional concrete barrier, turning everybody away with his bitter sneers. Kazumi strides forward a little, flicking Ryuga’s forehead right next to the start of a bandage that stretches across the expanse of his face to right above his ear.

 

“Ow, hey, what the fu-“ Ryuga begins to stumble out, but Kazumi shushes him with a glare, mentally preparing himself with what he wants to say.

 

“You’re so stupid.” Kazumi begins, a rebuttal forming in Ryuga’s throat but dying out before it has a chance to materialise. “You could’ve died. I would’ve killed you if anything irreversible happened to you.”

 

He stops momentarily, catching his breath. Ryuga looks frozen, Kazumi no longer just throwing playful jabs at him. He studies the glaze over Kazumi’s eyes, his unphased expression slightly disheveled, the wall keeping his emotions in tact crumbling down. He looks human like this, like what Ryuga imagined to be how he acted as a teenager, before he was tainted by the weight of the world.

 

Whatever Kazumi is saying, he can’t hear it anymore. He sees his mouth moving, he  _ definitely  _ sees his lips moving, but the sound doesn’t register in his ears. One, Ryuga counts, as he watches Kazumi blink out a single tear, leaving a luminescent trail in its wake. He finds himself wanting to wipe it, and that he does, his mind foggy from painkillers and whatever else the doctors had him on. (He let Sento handle that, the big words the doctors were using too complicated for his adrenaline-rushed stupid brain to comprehend.)

 

Kazumi stops talking, the expression on his face contorting to surprise. He looks like a puppy here, Ryuga thinks, the strangely intimate feeling of Kazumi just slightly resting his chin on his hand sending chills down his spine.

 

Ryuga’s thumb brushes over Kazumi’s cheek, taking the tear with it. He knows he probably looks like a mess, the bandages scattered over his skin, dried blood painting over him like a canvas, but he couldn’t care less. Because with Kazumi’s head in his hand it all comes to a standstill. 

 

Ryuga doesn’t believe in heaven, but he thinks that this is what it must feel like to be there. He’s no longer in the hospital bed, the scent of rubber and medicine mixing to overwhelm his senses, but instead in his mind he’s on the bed in the Nascita basement, Kazumi’s cologne overriding whatever else he can’t name that‘s in the room. 

 

He hopes that Kazumi can’t catch a peek at the heart monitor, for his heart is beating out of his ribcage, trying to rip out of its constraints within his body. He shakes as he pulls Kazumi closer, his forehead resting against his and disheveling the bandages stickered to it, but he can’t think about that right now. Not when Kazumi is so, so, close, when Ryuga can almost feel the outline of his lips moving, barely refraining from touching his, their noses clashing together, their breath mingling in the air before escaping out the gaps where their bodies aren’t connected.

 

“Ka-zu-min.” Ryuga singsongs before he smashes their lips together. Maybe not the best idea in hindsight, he offhandedly thinks, the way their teeth clash together enough to enlarge the throbbing in his head. It’s worth it though, because Kazumi is a  _ good kisser _ . He pulls away from Kazumi’s lips for a moment to take a breather, admiring the way he gups at the air to catch a breath before diving back in, appreciating how abnormally soft his lips are for somebody who seems to do so little to maintain his appearance. The inside of his mouth is nice too, Ryuga notes, the way their tongues mesh together like puzzle pieces, and the way their breathing is almost in sync, both of them pulling apart simultaneously for breaks.

 

Kazumi’s arm runs down Ryuga’s arm, carefully avoiding the IV and only tracing over where the bandage begins on his forearm. He’s gentle, unlike the Kazumi that Ryuga is used to seeing, and it makes him shiver, letting out a hum into the kiss. Kazumi pulls away from the kiss, fear of hurting, fear of causing the demise of somebody else he cares about. Two, Ryuga counts, the second tear rolling down his face at the same pace as the first. It’s easier for Ryuga to wipe it away this time though, Kazumi’s hot cheeks compliant under the pad of his thumb. ’ _ He’s blushing _ .’ Ryuga thinks, mentally patting himself on the back for knocking down Kazumi’s walls so low. 

 

Kazumi leans back, his chin leaving Ryuga’s palm. He’s unusually soft today, his fingers only slowly detaching from the bandages, wanting to massage and caress and  _ kiss _ everywhere it hurts. He has to build up his walls again, he thinks, because vulnerability is terrifying, just another risk to add to his pile of mistakes thrown into the back of his closet to be forgotten. 

 

“Feel better soon.” Kazumi sarcastically mutters, patting the bandage on Ryuga’s forehead back into place. He turns and walks out of the room, calling to the nurse and to Sento that he’s done visiting, a tiny wave in the doorway before he vanishes completely.

 

Ryuga has to refrain from tracing his fingers over where Kazumi touched for the rest of the day.


End file.
